


An (Un)fortunate Haunting

by Kooriicolada (WHM_Koorii), scarletjedi



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Even Anakin is done with Anakin's shit., F/M, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Ridiculous, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHM_Koorii/pseuds/Kooriicolada, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: “I refuse to listen to hallucinations.”“I AM NOT A HALLUCINATION!”





	An (Un)fortunate Haunting

* * *

Anakin’s head was always filled with noise.  


All his life, Obi-Wan and the other Jedi had spoken of _emptying_ and _release_ and Anakin — didn’t really know what they were talking about. There was always _something_ trying to get his attention.  


He had told Obi-Wan about it once, early on, and hadn’t liked the way Obi-Wan looked pinched and worried when he thought Anakin couldn’t see.  


Anakin didn’t want to worry Obi-Wan. At the time, Obi-Wan had said something about listening to the Force, and that someone with Anakin’s strength was bound to hear more than the average jedi, and that Anakin would simply have to focus more on shutting it out. (The statement had made Anakin groan, because he knew that meant more _meditation_ and that was just _boring_.)  


Anakin didn’t think that _this_ was what Obi-Wan was speaking of. Slowly, Anakin wiped his hand down his face.  


Sitting across from him, shrouded in sparkling blue and _actively chastising himself, what the fuck_ , was his own older self — that was his scar, his hair and eyes — and his scowl behind a beard that looked too much like Obi-Wan’s. He even had Anakin’s Rim World accent, barely tempered by his time in the Temple — not to mention Anakin’s _temper_.  


(He wasn’t thinking about how young he still looked. They were fighting a war, after all — and he had long since learned that Jedi weren’t invulnerable).  


“Are you even listening to me?” his older self demanded.  


Anakin closed his eyes against the oncoming headache.  


* * *

  
“Nope. Not listening. This is crazy.”  


“You once fought physical manifestations of the Force on a planet that _doesn’t exist_ ”  


“...So?”  


* * *

  
“I refuse to listen to hallucinations.”  


“I AM NOT A HALLUCINATION!”  


* * *

  
“Why are you like this?”  


“Why are _you_ like this?  


* * *

  
It wasn’t so bad, at first. It started as a bad feeling, an unease that would grow when he was around certain places, certain people. Anakin had dismissed his fears; he’d known the Chancellor since he was nine, after all. There was no reason for the Force to be screaming at him in the Chancellor’s office.  


Then, the unease had given way to whispers — faint ghostly muttering that sounded like distant conversation on a bad comm channel, barely heard but not quietly spoken. He found himself checking and rechecking his comms and the intercom on board his ship. Nobody else seemed to hear the whispers, however, and Anakin stopped asking.  


Then, when Anakin and Ahsoka had been under heavy fire, his lightsaber a blue counterpoint to Ahsoka’s twinned yellow blades blurring through the air, guided by the Force, the whispering voice sharpened into a single, shouted word.  


_”Move!”_  


And Anakin dove out of the way of an incoming boomer, catching Ahsoka about the waist as he carried them both free of the blast. Ahsoka had scrambled to her feet, a quick but heartfelt “Thank you, Master,” on her lips as she jumped back to the fray, not seeing the way Anakin had hesitated, looking around for the owner of that voice.  


Nothing — not even the whispers remained. Anakin renewed his focus, and with the help of Obi-Wan and Ki Adi Mundi, they won the day.  


That night, Anakin had bent over the tiny sink in his ‘fresher, scrubbing his face, and when he had righted and looked in the mirror, he saw his older self for the first time.  


Anakin had screamed.  


His older self had just sighed.  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan was no help.  


If Obi-Wan could hear the whispers, he gave no sign, but Anakin was pretty sure that Obi-Wan couldn’t see his older self. Frankly, despite what Anakin’s older self had insisted, Anakin still suspected that this was all some sort of elaborate hallucination. Force knows Anakin had been hit in the head enough, and had been electrocuted enough, to warrant all sorts of nasty side effects.  


It seemed, therefore, that the best sort of action was to treat his older self as a hallucination, and hope that it would fade over time — probably after the war was over and Anakin was allowed to go back to a war-free life.  


So, Anakin ignored his older self’s grumbling as he walked down the Temple corridor with Obi-Wan in tired silence. They were back on Coruscant for a three-day break, barring any greater-than-usual emergency.  


“I was thinking of heading down to Dex’s,” Obi-Wan said quietly, and glanced at Anakin out of the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you’re free.”  


“Oh, _Dex’s_ ” his older self _moaned_. Honestly — you’d think he’d have some sort of self respect. “I haven’t been to Dex’s in forever.”  


To be fair, it had been a while for Anakin, too, but... “Maybe next time,” he said, wincing internally at the way Obi-Wan seemed to sag a bit. The war was really taking it out of him. 

“I’ve got a meeting with the Chancellor.”  


Suddenly, his older self was right up behind him, speaking into his ear: “He is a _Sith Lord_ you abostolute _moron!_ ” Anakin’s eye twitched; not this again. “How many times do I have to _say_ that?”  


“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, trying to ignore his older self’s continued rant. “Do you hear that?”  


“Hmm?” Obi-Wan hummed, looking back up from his thoughts. “Hear what?”  


Behind him, his older-self pulled the hood down over his face, screaming into the fabric.  


Anakin’s eye twitched again. “Nothing.”  


  


* * *

  
What Anakin would later learn, was that Obi-Wan did not, in fact, hear nothing.

Anakin’s older self had plunked himself down across from Obi-Wan while his former master was meditating, much as he had with Anakin — only Obi-Wan’s reaction had been quite a bit more, well, _reactive_ than Anakin’s had been. 

Obi-Wan had leapt to his feet, calling his lightsaber to his hand. “What vision are you?” he had hissed, and Anakin’s older self had fallen backwards, even though he knew full well that Obi-Wan’s lightsaber would have no effect. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s me!” Anakin older self had said, and watched as Obi-Wan’s face first lit with recognition, and then whitened in horror. 

“No,” he had said, falling to his his knees, his lightsaber blinking out of existence as the hilt fell from his hand. “Anakin...” 

The pain in his voice had been real, too real, too close ( _You were my brother Anakin! I loved you!_ ) and Anakin’s older self had pushed himself up to kneel before Obi-Wan. 

“I’m not dead yet,” he had said. “This,” he had waved at his own chest, “doesn’t happen for another three decades.” His mouth had twisted into a tired smile. “If it helps, you don’t live to see it happen.” 

Obi-Wan had let out a sound, a horrible creaking noise that, perhaps, became a laugh at the end. Tears had run freely yet silently down his face, his eyes red, but still Obi-Wan had stared at Anakin as if a man dying of thirst in a desert. He had raised his hand, as if to cup Anakin’s face, but had not touched. 

“Not since your early days as my Padawan have I had such clear visions of the future — nor visions with such grim implications,” Obi-Wan had said. He had still been still pale, but his voice was gaining strength, and Anakin’s older self had sensed his growing equilibrium. 

“I’m not a vision,” Anakin’s older self had said gently. “I have come from the future, to help prevent the terrible things that will happen.” 

Obi-Wan’s features had set, and now Anakin’s older self had felt the slight prickle of fear that went with it. “The future is always in motion.” 

“Your future is my past,” Anakin’s older self had said, and that had, apparently, been enough. Obi-Wan had calmed and had waited to hear what Anakin’s older self had to say. 

So...Anakin’s older self had told him everything — that the war had been manipulated, that the Sith in the Senate — none other than Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and wasn’t that a surprise — was playing both sides. He had told him about the sleeper code in the army’s chips, about Order 66 and Anakin’s own future fall — a desperate move to save his wife and unborn children. 

“Not that we knew it was twins,” Anakin’s older self had said, smiling at nothing as he had thought of his children — bright Luke and blinding Leia. “You, with Yoda and Bail, separated them, hid them, and raised them.” He had smiled. “They were the Emperor’s downfall, in the end.” 

“Twins,” Obi-Wan had repeated, faintly, with more trepidation than Anakin’s older self felt was warranted. Then again, he had witnessed first hand the extreme lengths to which his children would go to achieve their goals; they were like their mother, in that regard. If he were honest which himself, which he was trying to be these days, Anakin’s future self couldn’t fault Obi-Wan’s trepidation. 

Then Obi-Wan’s eyes had sharpened. “DId you say Palpatine is a Sith Lord?” 

“Sidious,” Anakin’s older self had spat. “Apprentice to Darth Plagueis, and more powerful than any Sith you’ve ever fought.” 

“Of course he is,” Obi-Wan had muttered, surprisingly bitter. Anakin’s older self had smiled, feeling better than he had in days. Perhaps now something could get done.  


* * *

  


Obi-Wan was no better than his own damn fool younger self, and didn’t seem to appreciate the urgency Anakin’s older self was trying to impart. He was, however, better at hiding his reaction when Anakin’s older self spoke to him when others were present. He didn’t respond when Anakin’s older self bent in front of Yoda’s council seat to make faces at the old troll, and didn’t even twitch when Mace’s insistence on trusting in the senate and the Chancellor made Anakin’s older self scream in frustration. (It was forceful enough that the windows in the chamber shook, and the Council looked around in alarm. 

“Hrm. Disturbed, the Force is,” Yoda said, and Anakin’s older self had his hand up and half curled before he caught his temper and threw his hands up instead.) 

"Don't you have some other Jedi to annoy?" Obi-Wan hissed to him as he left the chamber, moving quickly enough that Anakin’s older self had to hurry to keep pace. 

"No,” he said, shaking his head. “You're the only one who can see me."  


Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed, and Anakin’s older self bit back an automatic tease _that’s anger, master._  


" _You_ can see you,” Obi-Wan bit out.  


Anakin’s older self wagged his head. "Yeah, but he's an idiot who won't listen."  


Obi-Wan’s quick agreement was a little _too_ quick, but Anakin’s older self was willing to let it pass if it meant _going after Sidious._  


It didn’t last, however. Obi-Wan quickly realized that Anakin’s older self fled the room when Ahsoka was nearby, and was quite frankly a bit obnoxious about how often he used that to get away from him. There was just — some things were too painful. Ahsoka certainly seemed happy with the extra attention from her Grandmaster, especially when they spent it training. That girl and her lightsabers — even if she did hold them wrong.  


* * *

  
Anakin should have gone to Dex’s. Hells, he should have gone to Padme’s — at least then he might have gotten a little bit of quiet.  


“Are you alright, Ani my boy?” the Chancellor asked. “You’ve been quite distracted this whole time.”  


Anakin could very well say he was. His older self had been pacing behind Palpatine, keeping up a running commentary of “He’s evil...that’s a lie... _that’s_ a lie...Seriously, why do you believe this?” That one had made his older self stop. “Why did _I_ believe this?”  


“I’m fine,” Anakin said, aware that too long a time had passed. “Just have a lot on my mind.”  


“Oh?” Palpatine had leaned in, concerned and — had he always looked so eager, so _hungry_ to hear about Anakin’s problems?  


Unease began to trickle like cold water down the back of Anakin’s neck.  


“Just...the war,” Anakin said, waving a hand dismissively. Palpatine sat back, looking nearly _disappointed_ and Anakin felt his unease grow.  


“Huh,” his older self said — still, at last, and watching Anakin with his arms folded over his chest. “Look at that. I _can_ learn.”  


“The war is weighing on all of us, I’m afraid,” Palpatine said.  


His older self ran his hand over his beard. “I think we could kill him now. His guard is down; he won’t expect it. We can end this war and still have time to meet Obi-Wan at Dex’s”  


_If we kill him now, there’ll be an inquest. They take forever,_ Anakin thought, and his older self shrugged, as if he had said it aloud.  


“Fine, whatever,” he muttered. “Can we just leave before he—”  


“And how are things with dear Padme, my boy?”  


Oh no.  


_”You stay the fuck away from my wife, you nerf-karking sleemo!”_  


* * *

  
Anakin had a headache, leaving the Chancellor's office, but this time he wasn’t sure that it was all because of his older self. He’d felt like this before, after facing Dooku or Ventress. He’d felt it on Mortis, after his run in with the Son.  


Checking his chrono, Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan was probably long gone from Dex’s, and Anakin was hungry. The temple was much farther away than Padme’s apartment, and... Anakin grinned to himself. Oh no, now he _had_ to see his wife.  


“Why are you smiling?” Anakin’s older self asked. “The _Sith_ ruling the _senate_ just tried to mind-whammy you! Again! _We don’t have time for this!_ ”  
Anakin didn’t answer, pulling out his comm and dialing the dedicated channel. A moment later, he heard Padme’s sweet voice. “Ani! What a surprise!”  


“Hello, Angel,” Anakin said, looking around to make sure no one could overhear. “You busy?”  


“Took an early day,” she said, and Anakin could hear the smile in her voice. He could practically see her, leaning back at the desk in her home office, grinning at the ceiling. “Why do you ask?”  


“I have three days leave beginning...well, now.” Anakin said, pretending to check his chrono. “I can be there in ten minutes.”  


Padme hummed. “I’ll send the girls home for the day.”  


Anakin grinned. “Love you, Angel.”  


It wasn’t until Anakin was on his speeder that he realized his future self was nowhere to be seen.  


* * *

  
“What’s wrong, Ani?” Padme asked, her voice thick with sleep.  


Anakin looked down at the top of her head, where his metal hand was gently playing with her curls. He had put a lot of effort into making his new arm something that Padme wouldn’t be afraid of or disgusted by; that Padme treated this hand like his other, flesh, hand made his heart swell to think about.  


When the silence stretched too long, Padme looked up at him, blinking slowly. Without makeup, she looked so much like she had the day they met, and Anakin leaned down to kiss her gently.  


Padme hummed into the kiss, but pulled back, narrowing her eyes. “What is it?” she asked, now fully awake. .  


Anakin took a deep breath, and told her everything.  


* * *

  
“A SITH LORD?!?”  


“...apparently?”  


* * *

  
“Wait — this means that the clones—”  


“Yeah, about them...”  


* * *

  
“We’ve got to do something!” Padme insisted and practically threw herself from the bed and into the next room. Anakin, dumbfounded, sat in bed a moment longer, needlessly clutching the sheets a little more firmly about his waist.  


“Do what?” Anakin called back when it registered that his wife, his very naked and lovely wife, was now on a mission and likely to forget things, such as the fact that she was _not wearing her robe_. He scrambled out of bed, pulling on his pants and balancing himself with the Force to keep his feet as he ran after her, barely pausing as he grabbed her robe from the back of a chair, the long panels of gauzy fabric fluttering as he ran. “What are you thinking?”  


Padme was already back at her desk, typing furiously at her data terminal. “I’m asking Bail over for cocktails. When you defeat the Chancellor, there’s going to be a power vacuum that will lead to chaos unless Bail and I can figure something out.” She paused in her typing, pressing her lip between her teeth. “I’ll ask Mon over as well. And perhaps Riyo.” She began typing again in earnest.  


Anakin nodded, slowly. “Right. And you’re going to do this naked?”  


Padme blinked at him, and then looked down at herself. “Why, do you think it would help?” she asked, and then looked up through her lashes.  


Anakin held up her robe, shaking it at her, before tossing it aside and crossing over to her. “It’s certainly...distracting,” he murmured, yanking her chair back from the terminal. On the screen, the “sent” message flashed. It would take time for the others to read the message and respond.  


Plenty of time.  


* * *

  
There was not nearly enough time, and Anakin found himself sneaking out the back of her apartments much sooner than he would have liked. It wasn’t until he was well on his way back to the temple that he realized he was no longer alone; Anakin’s older self was seated pillion.  


Anakin barely glanced at him over his shoulder. “Where did you go?” he asked, but Anakin’s older self didn’t answer for a long moment.  


“I can’t,” he said, sounding _wrecked_. “Not her. Not yet.”  


Anakin felt fear like ice in his gut. “...what happened?” The words were barely a whisper, and for a moment, Anakin thought that his older self hadn't heard him. But then, Anakin’s older self answered:  


“The worst.”  


* * *

  
Obi-Wan was waiting for Anakin at the landing pad, and Anakin barely got his speeder landed and shutting down before he was off and running, skittering to a stop before Obi-Wan. Breathless, he began to speak over Obi-Wan.  


“Obi-Wan, I have to tell you—”  


“Palpatine is a Sith Lord.”  


Anakin paused. “Wait, you know?”  


Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. “Of course I know,” he said, and then nodded over Anakin’s shoulder to where Anakin’s older self was walking closer. “You haven’t been subtle.”  


“I — you —” Anakin closed his eyes, shaking his head. “You can see him?”  


“Of course I can see him,” Obi-Wan said. “He’s been yelling at me for hours because you, apparently, won’t even listen to yourself.”  


Anakin threw his hands in the air. “Would you?!”  


“He came at me with his lightsaber,” Anakin’s older self said, coming up to joint them and ignoring the glare Obi-Wan sent his way. Anakin, however, couldn’t resist pointing at Obi-Wan.  


“Ah-ha!”  


“That’s not — not relevant at the moment,” Obi-Wan said, trying to wave it off. “Are we going to go defeat the Sith in the heart of the Republic or not?”  


“Sleemo came for my family,” Anakin said, pulling his lightsaber from his belt. “We’re going to bring him down.”  


Obi-Wan eyed Anakin sideways as they hopped into a speeder car. “Yes, about that family...”  


Anakin winced, and lifted off. “One thing at a time, Obi-Wan.”  


* * *

  
Later, after the long and tense battle, where — if not for Anakin’s quick thinking — Palpatine nearly managed to send off Order 66 anyway to take the Jedi down with him — it was over. Anakin removed Palpatine’s head from his shoulders in a way that was both anti-climatic and yet somehow fitting.  


Mace, along with Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, and Saesee Tiin, burst through the door, and Obi-Wan waved to them to indicate that the threat had passed. “It’s alright. It’s over now.” He said. “The war, the darkness, all of it.”  


Gracelessly, Anakin shoved Palpatine’s body out of the window.  


“Knight Skywalker!” Mace called out —  


And then Palpatine exploded.  


* * *

  
Anakin’s older self watched the explosion with a bittersweet relief. Finally.  


A dim glow let him know that he wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry,” Anakin’s older self said. “I was an idiot.”  


“Was?” Obi-Wan’s ghost said, a dry lilt coloring his voice. Anakin’s older self turned to glare at him, half-heartedly. He wasn’t wrong, after all. “I have to say, I like the beard,” Obi-Wan’s ghost continued, grinning as he ran his hand over his own white whiskers. Anakin’s older self’s hand went to his face automatically.  


“Shut up,” he muttered. They, those who remained themselves in the Force, didn’t have much control over how they appeared, not long term anyway, but Anakin’s older self’s beard had grown in when Yoda’s ghost, of all people, had declared Anakin not only a Jedi, but a Jedi _Master_.  


“I agree, it’s quite fetching,” Qui-Gon’s ghost said, coming up on their Anakin’s older self’s other side. He smiled warmly. “Though it might look better if you grew your hair longer.”  


“I say shave it,” Mace’s ghost said, arms crossed. “Shave it all.”  


“What is this?” Anakin’s older self asked to no one specific, raising his arms. “I did the thing; why am I getting picked on.”  


“Did, you did,” Yoda’s ghost said from somewhere around his knee. “But struggle, too. Hard, your head is.”  


“Master Yoda has a point,” Obi-Wan’s ghost said, eyes twinkling.  


“I hate all of you.”  


* * *

  
Ahsoka, running past the balconies as she raced towards her master, skittered to a halt. She jogged back, looking out onto the one balcony, certain she had seen...  


Shaking her head, she turned from the empty balcony and hurried on to Anakin.


End file.
